


License Man

by omen1x2



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Crack, Ficlet, Gen, Humor, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omen1x2/pseuds/omen1x2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My humorous take on the "license" system in Final Fantasy XII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	License Man

Vaan cheered as he landed the final blow on the Cockatrice. He turned to grin at Balthier, rubbing the back of his head in fake modesty. "Looks like I got it this time!"

Balthier rolled his eyes sardonically and shouldered his crossbow. "Quite an accomplishment to kill something so weak, kid."

"Stop calling me kid!"

"I will when you grow up."

Vaan pouted and turned to Penelo. "I'm not a kid! Tell him, Penelo."

"Don't act like one, then. And take that stupid pout off your face."

Vaan grumbled, but decided not to continue pursuing the question of his obvious maturity.

Fran, ignoring them, approached a small, hunched, bespectacled figure in a tweed suit. "I have thirty-one now."

The figure, pen poised, checked his clipboard. "Very well, Miss Fran." He scribbled something quickly and illegibly, then tore off a piece of paper. Holding it out for her, he said dully, "Your weapons license, ma'am."

The Viera carefully tucked it away.

Balthier smirked. "Where do you keep all those anyway, Fran? Surely you don't have enough pockets on those clothes of yours. If you can call them clothes."

Fran fixed him with an icy glare, then turned to Vaan and Basch. "Are you curious too?" she growled.

The two of them tried really hard not to look at each other.

Ashe, much too dignified to even deign to acknowledge the conversation around her, also approached the small figure.

He didn't even glance up at her. "No."

"But-"

"Not yet."

"How about-"

"No."

Basch couldn't handle much more of this. Drawing his sword, he pointed it threateningly at the tweed-clad figure's throat. "How dare you interrupt the princess! You don't even know what she was going to ask!"

Scribbling some notes on his clipboard, he said blandly, "She only has three License Points."

Silenced, Basch lowered his sword limply and turned to fix an eloquent stare on Ashe.

Coloring, she drew herself up haughtily and raised her chin. "It is good planning to always check."

Balthier had wandered several feet away during this exchange. He _never_ talked to the man with the clipboard, or even stood closer than ten feet from him, except when strictly necessary. He would never admit it, even to himself, but Balthier felt nervous around the man. It was either the clipboard, the twisted suit, or possibly even the glasses that gave him nightmares.

Vaan knelt down next to Balthier, fingering the sand.

"Still not enough, huh?"

"Nope."

"Maybe if you'd stop using your Points on every other License that becomes available first..."

"I do not!"

Balthier calmly sat down next to him and reached into Vaan's pockets. Ignoring the yelps and squirms, he pulled out a fistful of small, rectangular papers. "Oh? So you're planning to use a staff for a weapon sometime soon? Or a wrench? We could leave you on the airship as a mechanic, I suppose..."

He froze as a small shadow loomed over them.

"Mr. Vaan, you still do not have enough License Points to acquire a License for a Mist ability, but you do have enough for a new shield License."

Vaan perked up and was beginning to scramble to his feet when an arrow whipped passed his head, cutting off a few strands of hair, and lodged in the cliff behind him.

Fixing wide eyes on Fran, Vaan fell back on his ass, sputtering incoherently.

Shouldering her bow again, Fran said calmly, "As you will remember, you are the only one lacking a third Mist ability. Please refrain from acquiring any new Licenses until after-"

The small being with a clipboard slowly turned to peer at Fran through thick lenses. "I would ask _you_ , Miss Fran, to please refrain from firing ammunition, shooting arrows, waving swords, swinging axes, casting spells, or doing anything in a threatening manner within the vicinity of a License Guildman, or your Licenses will be immediately revoked. Consider yourself warned."

As the company watched silently, he turned and walked away. Perching primly on a boulder, he slowly set his clipboard aside and reached into his pocket, pulling out a plain black comb, and checked to make sure his part was still perfectly straight, and that no wayward strands had fallen out of place.

Penelo gulped, then bravely stepped towards him. "I was... wanting to get a Gambit License..."

The man didn't look at her as he deliberately placed his comb back in his jacket pocket, then pulled out a perfectly wrapped lunch. "I am on my break," he said simply.

Penelo bobbed her head quickly, braids quivering, then moved to hide behind Fran.

Balthier's trigger finger started twitching.

 

~ _fin_ ~

**Author's Note:**

> This little bit of weirdness was born from a conversation with a friend of mine, where my train of thought basically went like this: "Right, so... licenses. How do you suppose that works? Do they just write their own when they get enough LP? But then, wouldn't forging be way too easy that way? Do you suppose some little tax accountant type man follows them around everywhere, completely obliivious to the events around him, distributing licenses? Or something?"


End file.
